


am i more than you bargained for yet?

by angrylizardjacket (ephemeralstar)



Series: bless the children of the beast {charlotte & lola AU} [1]
Category: The Dirt (2019)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23472070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstar/pseuds/angrylizardjacket
Summary: In which Tommy takes his cousin to the gig that changes his life, and Lola is terrible at first impressions.
Relationships: Nikki Sixx/Original Female Character(s), Tommy Lee & Original Female Character(s)
Series: bless the children of the beast {charlotte & lola AU} [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685215
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	am i more than you bargained for yet?

**Author's Note:**

> Charlotte is @misscharlottelee‘s on tumblr and I’d die for her. This is an AU for Chapter 7 of RTP, when Nikki and Lola meet Tommy for the first time.

“Fuck, man, I wish I wore my black lipstick that you - hey,” Tommy’s all kinds of jumpy as he and Charlotte are finally let into the Whiskey-A-Go-Go, “can I borrow yours?” And now he’s tapping at her shoulder, at the leather jacket that had once been his that she’d since refused to return, asking after the bright crimson lipstick she had in her pocket.

“No way, dude, I know where your mouth has been,” Charlotte frowned a little, getting jostled by the crowd as she made her way to the bar; Tommy’s flushing, a little put-out and trying to protest, but Charlotte stops dead turning on him, her mouth pressed into a flat line, “you can’t say shit until you sound-proof that god-awful van of yours.” She’s off again, and he’s at her heels like the puppy he not so secretly is, trying to keep up with his cousin.

“That god-awful van got us here!” He protested, and finally he and Charlotte find themselves in line at the bar, waiting side by side. Charlotte visibly shudders at the thought, but doesn’t comment. 

The band’s doing a sound check and the crowd are buzzing with anticipating; only ten minutes until they’re slated to start. She flashes a smile, and a glimpse of her cleavage at the bartender and in turn he doesn’t ask to see her ID as she bought drinks for the both of them.

With drinks in hand, Charlotte looks to find a place to loiter, and finds standing room at the other end of the bar, and Tommy follows. The crowd, now that Charlotte can get a proper look at them, is a mix of cookie-cutter groupies, guys who looked almost exactly like Tommy, and people who looked like they would fit right in on stage, as the band themselves were pretty hard core, all black leather and denim and eyeliner, their hair dark and huge and imposing. Tommy was practically wetting himself, he was so excited.

“Dude, these guys are _the best_ , like you wouldn’t believe!” He crowed, eager to wax poetic to Charlotte before they’d even started. Charlotte, for her part, had been on the receiving end of Tommy’s fangirling more times than she’d ever care to count; she’d forgotten more about LA’s music scene than almost anyone else could even hope to learn. They’ve been to various shows together, but these guys were one of Tommy’s favourite, and she’d always been busy when he was going to see them.

“ _London_ , right?” Charlotte asks with a slight smile, watching Tommy seem to inflate with disbelieving outrage.

“Charlie!” He bemoaned her, “it’s like you don’t even listen to me.” He was flighty and over excited, probably too much so for his own good, but Charlotte nudged him in the ribs, giving him a toothy smile.

“Their name was on the marquee, of course I know who they are,” and she continued before he could get a word in edgewise, though her tone did turn just a little teasing, “ _and they’ve got Nikki Sixx on the bass, can you believe it Charlie?“_ She mimicked him, his wide-eyed enthusiasm, “ _After_ Sister _I thought he and Blackie were done for as bandmates!_ ” She paused, taking a smug swig of her drink before adding, “of course I listen to you.”

Tommy pouts at that, but Charlotte wraps him in a one-armed hug. Somewhere further along the bar, Charlotte thinks she sees someone smirking at their interaction, but the woman turns back to face the band before she can be sure; all she knows is that the girl has more piercings in her one ear than every woman in Charlotte’s entire family has collectively. 

The gig is… a lot more than she’d been expecting. The music hit hard with a bass line she could always seem to feel in her veins, and maybe her appreciation for the music, for an objectively talented musician, makes the bassist himself, with all his hair, and his sharp-teeth, wolf-like smile, a little bit hotter. But that was to be expecting; the on-stage fight was a pretty new occurrence for Charlotte.

One moment the bassist is saying something to the singer that the crowd can’t quite hear over the instruments, and then the singer’s biting back, and the music crashes to a halt as the singer punches first. The crowd are jeering, amped up and excited, and Tommy’s right there with him, surging forward to the dance floor, like he’s hoping to get blood on him, but it doesn’t take long for the guitarist and drummer to break them apart.

“You should have kicked his fucking ass, Nikki!” It’s the girl that Charlotte had spotted earlier, grinning, standing on the bar, glowing with schadenfreude at the singer’s expense, who in turn tells her to shut up. She flips him off, practically electric, cracking her knuckles in anticipation - _who in the fuck is she? A groupie?_ It didn’t matter, the gig didn’t go on much longer after that. 

Tommy’s vibrating like he’s about to ascend to another plane of existence by the time they leave the club. 

“That rocked!” He exclaimed, sticking his hands into his jacket pockets as he and Charlotte headed back to where his van was parked.

“Because of the fight- ?”

“Obviously because of the fight! That was so fucking cool! Did you see the way Nikki fuckin’ decked him?” Tommy’s mouth was running a mile a minute, but Charlotte’s pretty sure there’s a fight happening in the alley by the club’s back door. She insists that she’s hungry to try and distract Tommy, who was bursting with suddenly restless energy.

They end up driving to an all night diner further up The Strip, and it’s full of groupies for bands who don’t hit half as hard as the one they’d just seen, and right after they’re lead to a booth, Tommy’s stopped dead, silent and still for the first time all night.

“Dude,” he taps Charlotte’s shoulder, trying to get her attention, “ _dude!”_ He’s more insistent this time, but then he seems to realise how weird and obvious he’s being, because he slides into their booth, and Charlotte follows suit, amusement written all over her face.

“Dude?” She asks, and Tommy’s looking over his shoulder, eyes wide.

“Dude.” He mutters back as confirmation, and Charlotte follows his gaze. There, sitting on the other side of the restaurant, sits the bass player from London, Nikki Sixx, sans his stage makeup, but recognizable nonetheless.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Charlotte asks, actually smiling now, though she picks up the menu and tries to not look like she’s looking. Tommy turns back to her, nodding and trying to act like he’s not as excited as he so clearly is.

“That’s _him_.”

At Charlotte’s gentle insistence, Tommy gets up, approaches the bass player and personal hero, and she watches with fond amusement as her cousin flounders through an introduction. Tommy’s face reads regret, as he casts a gaze at Charlotte. Glancing between him and Nikki, Charlotte looks back at him and raises her eyebrows in silent question. Tommy jerks his head to the table Nikki was currently sitting at, a silent answer. 

Charlotte joins them just as an older waitress passes Nikki a little bottle of JD and a glass of coke, and Charlotte’s confidence dissolves into concern when she realises there’s a third occupant at the table, a dark-haired person who looks to be asleep on the table.

“Are they okay?” Charlotte asks tentatively, and the waitress grumbles.

“Just bleeding all over my table.”

Nikki cuffs the figure on the back of the head at that, and Charlotte hesitantly slides into the booth beside Tommy. The figure lifts their head, to show how her nose was bleeding rather profusely, enough to trail down her lips, chin, and the sleeve of her leather jacket where she’d been leaning, onto the table. The second thing Charlotte notes is the considerable bruise on her forehead, and the bleariness of her eyes.

“Hey, are you alright?” Charlotte asks, and the woman levels a stormy, if glassy gaze, at the blonde. Even in the unflattering fluorescent of the diner, with the woman decked out in black leather and spikes and blood, she’s the single most intimidating woman Charlotte’s ever seen. Her first words to them don’t exactly help that matter.

“Fuck you,” but it’s gravelly, as if she’d actually just been asleep, which is enough to have Charlotte’s eyebrows rising in surprise, but the woman doesn’t stay fixed on Charlotte for long, instead turning to Nikki, “fuck you too. Napkin.” She held out her hand, and he gave a thin smile in return, handing over a wad of napkins.

“Nikki,” Nikki seems to ignore the girl as she cleans herself up after that, and holds out his hand to Charlotte. The other is holding a bloody bandage, and there’s the faintest trace of blood by his nose. Charlotte deciedes to give the pair the benefit of the doubt; they’d had a rough night it seems. She gives him a sharp smile and shakes his hand.

“Charlotte.”

And there’s that wolfish smile he’d worn on stage, and he gives Charlotte’s hand the slightest squeeze before letting go.

“You’ll have to forgive Lola; she’s -” and he looks like he’s on the verge of saying something snarky, but for the barest moment, as he looks at her, his expression softens, “had a rough night.” Is what he says instead.

“ _Lola.”_ Tommy turns the name over in his mind, like he recognises it, like he recognises _her,_ watching as she wipes the blood from her face. Lola, on the other hand, does not look up. “You’re the chick from the bar,” he says it a little incredulously as it clicks in his mind, and Charlotte’s gaze immediately follows him to Lola, who’d finally given him her attention, though Tommy turns to Charlotte, “this is the chick who yelled at the singer, you remember?”

“The one with all the ear piercings?”

“All the -” and when Tommy looks back, his voice dies in his throat. Lola’s watching Charlotte this time, pupils wide and shiny, a little unfocused. It takes Charlotte all of two seconds to realise that Lola’s absolutely off her face. “Lola Gone and Nikki Sixx. Holy shit.” Tommy mutters, not seeming to realise and then he’s back to being a ball of excitement as he explains that Lola’s a well known roadie around the strip. 

Lola, at the very least, has stopped frowning, which is probably due to Tommy’s infectious enthusiasm, and though she still seems pretty out of it, she’s content with being quiet and watching Tommy twirl his drumsticks. 

When Tommy’s waffles come out, Charlotte’s laughing and nudging him in the ribs, but Lola’s eyes are as wide as saucers.

“Dottie!” She calls after the waitress,practically launching herself over Nikki to the aisle, to watch the woman turn and purse her lips. Lola gives a toothy grin, “can I get what he’s getting?” She asks, sounding much younger than she looked, and the aging waitress can’t help the slight smile.

“Of course, Miss Lola.” 

And Lola sits back in her own seat, content, listening to Tommy and Charlotte and Nikki talking about music, about the band Nikki wants to make, and how, if Tommy was as good as he says he was, he should come over the next day. Okay, Lola misses that bit, but by then she’s eating waffles like her life depends on it.

When they go to leave, Lola seems to be coming down, has gone back to unsmiling and stoic, holding a bag of frozen peas to the bruise on her forehead.

“Can I ask how you got that?” Charlotte asks, the four of them on the pavement outside of the diner, Tommy and Nikki trading numbers a few feet away. Lola fixes Charlotte with a flat stare.

“You know that asshole singer?” She asked, and Charlotte nodded once, “he punched me in the fucking head,” Charlotte’s eyes widened as she looked at the rather angry looking bruise, but Lola wasn’t done, “he hit me hard enough that I faceplanted into the side of his van.”

“Oh, shit,” is all Charlotte has to say, but Lola gives a smug smile.

“You should see the other guy.”

And Charlotte has absolutely _no idea_ what to make of her.


End file.
